cascading throughout their bodies with pain.
After nearly ten minutes of muscles lifting and lowering, Renaldo finally remained down, exhausted in defeat.
“That's what I'm talking about.” Wesley commented, exhausted himself, but finding the energy to flex a biceps muscle toward the beaten sniper.
“Just get ready to get these kids into orbit,” Jack replied, reminding them all of the seriousness of their situation. “You get up there and make sure Bailey is bringing us what we need, and you make sure they've alerted the core.”
“You got it.” Wesley said, nodding before turning to walk toward the chopper.
“Get in and sit tight. We'll pack it out slowly, then wait a spell. We'll have to be quick about launching it,” Jack said, turning to the others. “And those of us staying behind will have to be fast about sealing the door back.”
“Lucky bastard.” Renaldo said with envy.
“Not luck son,” Wesley replied, turning to face the stringy smuggler. “Skill. Pure unadulterated, meat-eating, country-strong skill.”
“I hear you,” Renaldo commented, a bit under his breath. “I hope you choke on your first hot meal, you arrogant fuck.”
It was the first crisis that Bailey had ever been tasked with, though he seemed to handle it well. Each move he made was done so in a rushed fashion, though very strategic.
“Pull both mechs and put them online. Have them handle the basic ship maintenance.” Bailey said.
“Yes sir.” Chandra replied as the remaining soldiers scurried throughout the ship collecting their weaponry.
“You're to remain here. You make damn sure the core sends real firepower. Keep the distress message looping, and keep this baby in orbit.” he added.
“You got it.” she replied with a smile.
“Alright everybody, get your asses together and meet me in the launch bay in five.” he ordered, pressing a button down on the com system.
Then, taking a moment to try and collect himself, Bailey began watching the looping video feed their ship was attempting to broadcast to the Earth Defense Marine Core.
“Never seen anything like it before. Never.” he said.
“Alright, give me a list of what we're taking along!” Bailey demanded, the last to board the small chopper as Wilson, Martin, Lincoln and Sayers waited patiently.
“Two sealed crates of chow, a pile of medical supplies and guns. Lots of fucking guns.” Lincoln replied with pride.
“Good. Let's go save some kids and skin some asses.” Bailey said, sitting and beginning to buckle in. “Let's go!”
Rather than wait for him to finish strapping in, Lincoln nodded his approval of the direct order, beginning the sequence of the hop to come.
There was something about the toxic mixture of nerves, adrenaline and the free-fall which every hop began with. It was almost an out of body experience for any soldier who had felt the combination of the three.
The force of a chopper falling hundreds of miles per second, as if a stone had been flicked from the orbiting ship above, only filled with the souls of soldiers who hungered for a fight.
Each of them thought about the video stream which had been broadcast by their commanding officer. Each soldier's mind vividly replaying the sight of demons below.
“These boys don't know who they fucked with!” Martin yelled, bringing chuckles from soldiers who otherwise remained tight-griped onto the handles attached to their seats.
Moments later, the chopper's thrusters began to fire, taking the crew from a free-fall to a full-burn within a single moment.
“Wooooo” Lincoln yelled, his hands controlling the chopper's flight stick as the entire crew was pushed back into their seats with violent turbulence.
“Check your gauges Sayers, I can hear equipment back here stalling out!” Bailey yelled.
“It's not equipment sir, it's rain.” Sayers replied, continuing his close monitoring of the shuttle's vitals.
Rain? Bailey thought, having never heard such a heavy downpour in his life.
The interior of the chopper began to echo with the roar of rainfall. Pellets of hard water slamming against the man-made steel of the chopper, as it did against the shatterproof windshield.
“How can you see in this shit?” Bailey asked, using a loud voice in an attempt to overpower the steel-echoed rain.
“I can't,” Lincoln replied. “Lieutenant Strong has their chopper beacon going, so I'm aiming for a spot near them.”
“Good idea,” Bailey replied. “Sayers, go ahead and alert our beacon in anticipation of the core sending more firepower.”
“You got it.” Sayers replied, punching in a sequence of buttons that would make their spacecraft findable to the core's equipment when the time came.
“LT, they're weaponized!” Renaldo yelled, spotting several of the demon-like soldiers planting a large cannon into the ground.
It was primitive in appearance, though a glowing red circuit inside of the metal cylinder gave way to the fact that it was advanced, and it was a weapon.
And though it was a single cylinder, a spear-like attachment rested on its bottom, sinking into the water-drenched ground with a thud as it began to pivot.
“Weaponized?” Lieutenant Strong asked loudly, rushing over to the open door as he joined Renaldo in watching the chopper filled with children lifting-off. “Oh God!”
It was a certainty that the children, accompanied by Wesley, were to be destroyed at the hands of this race of murderers. And though he would have given his own life in order to save those aboard the doomed chopper, even Lieutenant Strong knew there was no stopping the demons, who now began to lock their weapon onto the lifting shuttle of souls.
“Oh my God, no” Julia shouted with panic, eyes quickly turning to waterfalls as she thought of the children and their innocence. “No!” she shouted, attempting to run out to halt the demons, quickly grabbed by the grasp of Jack Strong.
“LT!” Renaldo yelled, pointing to the sky above.
Just as the sniper had spotted a second chopper, the steel-winged demons had done the same. Taking a moment before finally adjusting their targeting system.
Lieutenant Jack Strong found himself looking to the skies above, the pupils of his eyes burning a bit as they fought against the relentless fall of rain. Two objects, though sketchy at best. One of them filled with children and heading to safety, while the second was most likely packed with needed supplies and longtime friends.
He knew that one of the ships was doomed, sensing an element of advancement when it came to the species of demons. He had thought them to be mindless-monsters, but now realized how wrong he'd been.
Lieutenant Strong watched as one of them seemed to bark orders to the others, though he did so in a very strange dialect. One that wouldn't be possible to replicate with a human tongue.
He realized how advanced the species was, in fact, noticing a special insignia imprinted onto the chest plate of their leader. They were weaponized and militarized, leading Jack Strong to sincerely believe there were hundreds more. If not thousands.
His thoughts were quickly pulled from that of military assessment, however, and back to reality, as the weapon placement fired.
It made the sound of a loud whisper, as if someone was standing over the group and had exhaled deeply. The cylinder tube ejected a single burst, though it looked as though it were made from two different materials. The first was a glowing blue, followed by the second side of the shot that seemed to burn with a crimson red.
“Picking up some type of heat signature sir!” Sayers yelled, alerting everyone inside of the heavily-staffed chopper that was incoming.
“What is it?” Bailey asked with concern.
Before a reply could follow, however, their chopper was struck with the burst of double color. The glowing blue crashed into their spacecraft first, a full-blown EMP which essentially disabled every component of the ship. Then, a split-second later, the dark red burst struck their hull and damaged it greatly. Molten acid
eating away everything in its path, including two fine soldiers in Wilson and Martin.
An analog-style alarm began to blare throughout the ship, alerting them to trouble as if a free-fall wasn't warning enough.
It's startling how a single moment can change a man. A world of military-trained calm turning into pure chaos as the inevitable becomes clear.
“Going down!” Lincoln yelled, the small chopper taking on heavy rain through a large hole which had eaten its way through the hull.
And though he pleaded with the flight stick, every speck of desperation inside of his arms pulling to gain control; there was simply no way around it.
They were indeed going down. Dropping like a stone filled with praying souls, each of them asking God for the chance to see another day.
“Try,” Bailey yelled, the spin of their chopper forcing harshly against his lungs. “Try to put us down somewhere decent.”
“Can't do shit,” Lincoln yelled. “I got zero control.”
Wesley had seen the shot from the pilot's chair of his own chopper. He'd been only yards away from the burst of fire and exploding steel.
And though his prayers were with the crewmen aboard the chopper which fell without regard for those aboard it, Wesley thanked the Gods for allowing him safe escape. Not to mention the children who remained seated inside of the cabin. Each of them struck with complete fear.
“Alright guys, pulling from the atmosphere now. We'll be aboard a ship within minutes and I'll have you all in a warm bed eating hot chow.” Wesley commented, though his words